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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324004">got a fistful of four leaf clovers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias'>iphigenias</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Femslash February, Getting Together, Post-Canon, home is a place AND a person!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:14:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks before Christmas Alexis calls David.</p><p>“So I think I like someone,” she says.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis Rose &amp; David Rose, Alexis Rose/Twyla Sands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>got a fistful of four leaf clovers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wanted to get this written so i had at least one thing down for femslash feb! hopefully there is more to come but if not, enjoy this piece of silliness ❤️</p><p>teensy warning for disordered eating (nothing outside of the realm of alexis in the show)</p><p>workskins within by the incomparable <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameCarrot/pseuds/CodenameCarrot">CodenameCarrot</a>. title is from miss kacey musgraves</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It snows in New York. Alexis had forgotten that—or, more likely, remembered, then ignored it, a luxury she could afford in summer and the fall. And it’s only barely December, now, despite Bloomingdale’s Christmas displays that suggest otherwise, but it’s snowing. She wakes one morning to find the windows of her one bedroom walk-up frosted over, and cold to the touch. When she lifts her hand from the glass a perfect print cuts through the condensation. It feels, all of a sudden, very much not like home.</p><p>The thing is, New York was always David’s.</p><p>Alexis dresses for the day, in leggings, turtleneck dress, pea coat. She shots an espresso for breakfast. On her way out the door, her phone buzzes. She juggles keys, lip balm, sunglasses to check it.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="header">Twy <span class="x1F607"><span class="hide">(Smiling Face With Halo)</span></span><span class="x1F4AB"><span class="hide">(Dizzy)</span></span><span class="x1F36F"><span class="hide">(Honey Pot)</span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide">Twyla: </span>Morning!</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Twyla: </b></span>[Image: A selfie, Twyla in the foreground, throwing a thumbs up. Behind her, buttery cinnamon buns steaming on the café countertop.]</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div>Alexis feels her mouth twitch into a smile. She stops at Josie’s on her way to the station.<div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="header">Twy <span class="x1F607"><span class="hide">(Smiling Face With Halo)</span></span><span class="x1F4AB"><span class="hide">(Dizzy)</span></span><span class="x1F36F"><span class="hide">(Honey Pot)</span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="breply"><span class="hide">Alexis: </span>[Image: A selfie, Alexis biting into rugelach. Her hair is caught on her sunglasses and she’s smiling.]</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Twyla: </b></span><span class="x1F49B"><span class="hide">(Yellow Heart) </span></span><span class="x1F49B"><span class="hide">(Yellow Heart) </span></span><span class="x1F49B"><span class="hide">(Yellow Heart) </span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div>At the office Alexis forgets to have lunch and works through dinner. Her time is divided between executive meetings and organising socials and calling her client <em>for the fourth time, hello, do you want a career?</em> She screens a call from David around five and calls back two hours later, slipping her heeled boots off at the door with a sigh and collapsing onto the couch.<p>“I’m sorry, who is this?” David says when he answers, because he’s horrible. “I’m looking for my sister, maybe you’ve heard of her? Five seven, great cheekbones, voice sounds a little like dial-up?”</p><p>“Oh my God, <em>ew</em>, David.”</p><p>“Proving my point.”</p><p>“You sound <em>so old</em> right now.” Alexis tugs a cushion onto her lap and kneads her elbows into it. David doesn’t reply. She sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry I haven’t called.”</p><p>“It’s been a minute, yeah.”</p><p>“New York is just—<em>hectic</em>.” The word surprises her. Usually she uses ones like <em>amazing, perfect</em>. David seems not to notice—or maybe he does, because the conversation shifts to Schitt’s Creek as easy as breathing and in no time at all they’ve been talking for half an hour and New York hasn't come up once. David finishes his latest Roland-related horror story and a lull settles over the conversation.</p><p>“Okay, well,” David says at last, “I know you’re there doing your girlboss thing, but,” here he takes a breath and it sounds like a sigh, “look after yourself, okay?”</p><p>Alexis smiles into the phone. “Okay.”</p><p>“And call more than once in a blue moon?”</p><p>“<em>Okay</em>.” Alexis fiddles with her hair. “Hey, David?”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“Ugh,” he replies, and hangs up. Ten seconds later she gets a text.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="header">David <span class="x1F364"><span class="hide">(Fried Shrimp)</span></span><span class="x1F624"><span class="hide">(Face With Look Of Triumph)</span></span><span class="x1F335"><span class="hide">(Cactus)</span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide">David: </span>love u too i guess</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div>Alexis sends a <span class="x1F609"><br/>  <span class="hide">(Winking Face)</span><br/></span> in reply.<p>*</p><p>She sets her alarm an hour early the next day and digs through the files on her laptop to find the one she’s looking for.</p><p>“Okay,” says Twyla, voice tinny over the laptop speaker. “Guess I’m giving this a go! I’m Twyla from Twyla’s Café Tropical and today I’ll be guiding you through a half hour of sunrise yoga.” </p><p>Alexis knows the video by heart but listens along anyway. “Move with the breath,” Twyla says, beginning in mountain pose. As the video flows through vinyasa, Alexis feels herself relaxing. The tension she holds between her shoulders melts away and she makes a concerted effort to unlock her jaw and just <em>breathe</em>. When her calf muscles protest in downward dog she peddles it out, Twyla’s voice in her ear: “Whatever level you find yourself at today is the perfect level for you to be in right now.”</p><p>There’s a light sweat in the creases of her elbows and at the back of her neck when the video ends. Alexis watches Twyla wipe her forehead with a towel onscreen and swallows down the tide of longing that’s risen in her throat. </p><p>She closes her laptop and takes a shower.</p><p>*</p><p>So, it’s like this:</p><p>Alexis and Twyla text almost every day. Twyla’s FaceTimed her from the café, from the motel, from (once, heartstoppingly) her bedroom. Alexis sends her videos of the pigeons in Central Park and Twyla responds <span class="x1F60D"><span class="hide">(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes)</span></span><span class="x1F60D"><span class="hide">(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes)</span></span><span class="x1F64C"><span class="hide">(Person Raising Both Hands In Celebration)</span></span><span class="x1F64C"><span class="hide">(Person Raising Both Hands In Celebration)</span></span><span class="x1F49B"><span class="hide">(Yellow Heart)</span></span><span class="x1F49C"><span class="hide">(Purple Heart)</span></span><span class="x1F496"><span class="hide">(Sparkling Heart)</span></span>. When Alexis spent a weekend, nights included, at the office Twyla fast-tracked a care package of tea and muffins and apothecary body milk to the apartment Monday morning. Alexis cried.</p><p>And it’s like this:</p><p>When Alexis was in Schitt’s Creek, she saw Twyla all the time. She kissed Ted in the café while Twyla was watching. She kissed <em>Mutt</em> in the café. She pressed the tip of her finger to the sweet tip of Twyla’s nose and didn’t think about how it made her feel, or why. </p><p>She didn’t know what it felt like to miss someone until she was alone in one of the biggest cities in the world.</p><p>*</p><p>Two weeks before Christmas Alexis calls David.</p><p>“So I think I like someone,” she says.</p><p>“Hello to you too.” David’s on the store phone, and she can hear him organising register display.</p><p>“Yes, hi. The strawberry lip balm should go in the middle because you <em>know</em> the honey will sell no matter where you put it.” David rolls his eyes audibly over the phone but doesn’t talk back, which Alexis knows means she’s right. “I like someone,” she says again.</p><p>“So you’ve said.”</p><p>“<em>David</em>.”</p><p>“Hang on—<em>yeah, it’s Alexis</em>.” He’s not talking to her anymore, voice muffled as he presses the receiver to his chest. “<em>Could you—you’re amazing, I love you</em>. Hey,” and he’s talking to her again, “let me call you back on my phone, okay?”</p><p>“Tell Patrick I said hi.”</p><p>David’s voice is soft when he answers, “I will.” </p><p>Her phone lights up with the call two minutes later. “Okay, what’s up?” David asks, and Alexis loves him.</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Like someone, got it. And?” She’s silent on the line. David sighs. “Tell me there’s something more, the store is actually busy today and I should really—”</p><p>“It’s Twyla,” she blurts out. The words, now spoken, can’t be taken back. Alexis presses a hand to her mouth.</p><p>“Okay,” David says after a moment. “Okay.” She can hear him thinking. “Alexis?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Come home.” </p><p><em>Home</em>. It’s only after they hang up does she realise what he said; that she didn’t blink once at the word. <em>Home</em>. </p><p>New York’ll keep for a month.</p><p>*</p><p>She drives straight from the airport to the café in her boxy little rental car. Her heartbeat is thrumming in the palms of her hands, at her wrists, down the vein of her neck. There’s no Bluetooth so she listens to the radio: <em>loving me so hard it’s causing trouble</em>, Tinashe sings.</p><p>It’s just gone six when she pulls up across the road. The dinner crowd is starting to trickle into the café and Alexis presses her nails into her thigh to stop from biting them. </p><p>She takes a breath and gets out of the car.</p><p>The café is nothing and everything like she remembers it. The walls have been repainted, and fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, cascading down over the back wall to tickle the heads of customers sitting in the booths. She doesn’t recognise the playlist playing over the speakers and the menu is different, too, smaller, more carefully curated. But the chairs, the tables, the counter are the same, and so is Twyla bustling between them: hair falling from its loose bun, shitty ballpoint pen stuck through the elastic and likely forgotten there. She’s wearing faded, cuffed jeans and a flowy top Alexis takes a second to recognise as one of her old ones, and she looks perfect, she looks the furthest thing from New York and Alexis has to brace herself against the doorway for just a second to take it all in. </p><p>When Twyla straightens from taking a customer’s order, and turns, and sees Alexis, her face does something wonderful: a gentle ricochet from confusion to surprise to an infectious happiness Alexis can’t help but catch. Twyla laughs, incredulous; Alexis laughs back, and crosses the threshold, and hugs her.  </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Alexis lets go of Twyla reluctantly, but it’s worth it to just look at her face. “I thought—what about New York?”</p><p>Alexis shrugs. “It’s not going anywhere. I missed—” you, “everyone. Even missed the place, if you can believe it.”</p><p>“I can believe it.” Twyla’s smile is so wide it crinkles her eyes. She loops the apron from around her waist and dumps it with her notepad on the counter. “I’m taking five Ivan!” she calls, and leads Alexis back onto the street. It hasn’t snowed here, yet, but the winter chills both their breaths into fine mist when they speak. </p><p>“Who are you and what have you done with Twy?”</p><p>“Perks of being your own boss,” Twyla grins. She looks at Alexis with those big, round eyes. There’s a smear of chocolate powder on her cheek. “I missed you,” she continues, and just like that: three words, and she’s braver than Alexis could ever dream of being.</p><p>But she wants to try.</p><p>“I want to do yoga with you,” she says, and wait, <em>shit</em>, that’s not what she meant to say. Twyla’s head tilts. “I mean—I want to <em>do yoga</em> with you. And—eat cinnamon buns. And leave work on <em>time</em> to—to see you.” She’s fucking this up. Never in her life has Alexis had nothing to say and now she can’t find the words. </p><p>Twyla’s head is still tilted, but she’s smiling. Alexis ducks her chin and Twyla leans into the curtain of her hair to see her face. “Hey,” she says, and it’s enough to trip Alexis’ heart all over the place. “Why don’t we start with dinner first?” And her smile says <em>I know</em>, and it says <em>me too</em>. Easy as breathing she laces their fingers together. Alexis reaches up with her free hand and wipes the chocolate from her face. She exhales.</p><p>When Twyla kisses her it tastes like cinnamon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the song on alexis' radio is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RRY3OVqtwc">slumber party by britney spears feat. tinashe</a></p><p>i'm on twitter @<a href="https://twitter.com/maryoIivers">maryoIivers</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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